A Very Special Chemistry
by Nicky Gabriel
Summary: What we have between us is a very special chemistry. It's not Starsky/Hutch.
1. Careful

_I will post __here my short stories (over 300 words). They are all GEN and will not be posted in any particular order._

Prequel, episode related: DiaDP. Thank you **Kimberlyfdr** for your help.

**~ * ~**

**Careful**

**by Nicky Gabriel**

Starsky smiled at his partner. Hutch was looking really happy this morning, but then again who wouldn't? Sitting under a large tree, surrounded by a circle of beautiful girls, Hutch was playing his guitar and singing a duet with one of the female rookies. Maybe he finally was getting over the condemned relationship with Vanessa? Starsky was startled away from listening with a hand on his shoulder.

"Here," John Blaine said, handing him a beer.

"Thanks." Starsky took the bottle and smiled over at Maggie, sitting at the far picnic table.

"He's good," John said, indicating at Hutch.

"Yeah," Starsky whispered. "He is good."

And as if he heard them, Hutch raised his head and smiled brightly at them; the sun's reflection in Hutch's hair making him shine.

"You know, David, I didn't realize you two were that close, until his transfer here," John said with some kind of wonder in voice.

Starsky looked at him a little surprised, but shrugged.

"Well, he's my best friend. You can't be closer than that with a guy, right?"

John didn't look at him, just said, "What you two have, you don't see something like that every day."

"All the talk, we've been through it in the Academy already. Don't worry, we can deal."

John contemplated his beer for a while. "Maybe you should just give the rest of us some time to get used to that?" he suggested slowly, almost jokingly.

"You know what they say. Life is short and time is swift. Patience was never one of my virtues."

"I'm just saying, you should be careful." This time, John looked at him seriously.

Starsky held his gaze, but finally turned to look at Hutch – whose velvet voice was attracting more and more people. No, _careful_ wouldn't guarantee him what he wanted to have with Hutch, because Starsky wanted everything. And he wouldn't be satisfied with anything less.


	2. Mortal This Time

Post Sweet Revenge. Thank you **Kimberlyfdr** for your help.

**~ * ~**

**Mortal This Time  
by Nicky Gabriel**

For some moments in life, there just were no words. The realization came to Starsky during one of the most boring stakeouts; trapped in a run-down motel as they kept watch over their suspect. He woke up to the smell of coffee and looked at his watch, only to see that Hutch had definitely let him sleep too long. His partner was sitting near the window, binoculars still sitting on the floor where Starsky had left them, and a coffee sat cooling on the windowsill. The motel room wasn't very comfortable, but at least the bed wasn't that bad.

Starsky stood up and stretched, still not completely awake. Hutch looked at him briefly, but didn't move otherwise. Starsky walked over to where Hutch sat, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling – the darkness made Hutch's hair almost brown. He could feel how tense his friend was; a combination of sitting too long and something more. For a while, Starsky just stood there, then he slowly began massaging Hutch's tense shoulders.

His partner was still holding onto the pain of overhearing the locker room conversation that morning, questioning their ability to still do the job. Starsky still questioned it, even after he had proved he was recovered enough to go back to the streets.

Hutch had brought him back to life, literally until they _both_ were alive again; stronger, wiser, but mortal this time. And that awareness of their mortality had changed everything.

Hutch shifted slightly, gently brushing his cheek against Starsky's bare forearm. It was such an intimate gesture that Starsky froze for a moment. For a while all what mattered was Hutch's warmth against his skin and the slight tickling of his mustache.

Soon, he broke their enforced silence.

"Changing of the guard," he whispered tenderly.

Hutch covered Starsky's fingers with his hand and squeezed a little.

For some things in life, there were no words. Friend, partner, even brother – it never was enough. But for some things there were words that fitted perfectly.

_My Hutch._


	3. The Dawn

Post Sweet Revenge. Thank you **Kimberlyfdr** for your help.

**~ * ~**

**The Dawn**

**by Nicky Gabriel**

Starsky was standing on the porch, looking at the stars and listening to the noises of the early morning on the farm. It was cold and quiet – nights in Duluth weren't as warm as those in California – and he regretted not bringing a sweater.

Hutch often talked about the place where he was really happy – a place where he had spent almost all his childhood – but since his grandfather's death, this was where Hutch usually spent his time when he needed to just be alone. Lately, with the shooting and aftermath, Hutch had seldom wanted to leave Starsky's side. Now, seven months later, Starsky was more than ready for his recovery to be over.

Starsky woke up before dawn this morning, desperately needing it. There were times when he didn't believe he would live until Christmas, so he was more aware now of the beauty around him. He wanted to see as much as possible and not take anything for granted anymore. He tried hard not to wake up Hutch, though, since his partner was more than exhausted.

Hutch never liked Christmas, but this year he hadn't argued with Starsky's suggestion to come out here and spend the holidays. Maybe Hutch was faking it for Starsky's sake, but he wanted to believe that this year was different for both of them.

It was almost dawn when Starsky heard soft steps right behind him. For a while they just stood there, sharing the time and space and maybe something more. Starsky tuned out all other noises leaving only Hutch's breathing.

He was waiting.

Shivering.

Was it the cold or perhaps anticipation? Was he waiting for Hutch to come closer? To touch him; meet the deadline with him. Because he would, right?

A minute passed, two, and then he felt Hutch's arms slipping around his waist; embracing him firmly but gently.

Starsky closed his eyes. All of sudden, he wasn't cold anymore. He had Hutch, his lifeline.


	4. A Perfect Drawing

Post Sweet Revenge. Thank you **Kimberlyfdr** for your help.

**A Perfect Drawing**

**by Nicky Gabriel**

I found Starsky in his bedroom when I came home from workthat day. He sat on the bed, cleaning his gun. I never even saw him touch this thing since he was released from the hospital, so this sight made me freeze at the door. He looked up at me and shrugged, blushing slightly as if embarrassed.

"Borrowed your cleaning kit," he said, trying to explain.

"'S okay," I managed to say through the lump in my throat.

He had scheduled his first training at the rifle-range for the next morning, but he refused to talk about it for the last few weeks. I didn't even try to imagine how much it cost him to finally reach for the gun and accept it as a part of his job again; after everything he had suffered because of one of those things.

There was something in Starsky that often made me reach for a sheet of paper and pencil to try and make a moment last. This need happened in the most unusual times; when he was cooking, when he was putting together a new model of a ship, or when he was just watching some of his favorite horror movies.

He never minded me drawing him; no matter when it happened. Sometimes, he just would smile at me and shake his head. Sometimes he would pretend he didn't notice. Sometimes he would challenge me openly, but he never objected.

I wondered what he would do now. The last few months changed so much in our lives that there were things I couldn't be sure about in our relationship anymore. I went to my bedroom and took out the sketch book, where I had saved so many moments from his life. I wanted to have this one as well, so I went back and stood at the door again.

He noticed what I had in my hand and, for a minute, he didn't react. I knew that in this particular moment I would find out how much he still trusted me; _if_ he still trusted me. Finally, he looked up and met my eyes. For the first time in my life I couldn't read him. And then he nodded, once, and went back to work.

But it wasn't enough for me anymore.

"Will you take your shirt off for me?" I asked, still not moving from where I stood.

I didn't want just another drawing. I wanted a _perfect_ drawing. But would he understand it? Would he understand that it would be meaningless if I couldn't draw what such a weapon had done to him?

Starsky just stared at the gun in his hands and I almost heard my heart pounding in my chest.

"You don't have to ask, Hutch," I heard him whisper.

And then he reached out to unbutton his shirt.


	5. Intolerable Cruelty

**Intolerable Cruelty by Nicky Gabriel**

I was sitting on Starsky's couch and trying to figure out what I was seeing in the pictures that were scattered all over the table. I knew I was missing something and this something was important for the case we were working on. I looked at the clock and for a moment I wasn't sure if that was two in the morning or two in the afternoon. The darkness behind the window proved it was night already and my back was telling me that I had definitely sat there too long. Sleeping on Starsky's couch wasn't something I looked forward to, but I was too tired to drive home.

I looked at the pictures again. There must have been something!

"How about we call it a night?" I heard Starsky's voice after he left the bathroom.

I blinked and looked at the clock again. Two thirty. I must have dozed. Great, now even my neck hurt.

"What?" I asked still a little dazed. "Ah, yeah. 'S great idea."

Starsky looked at me suspiciously. "Hutch?" He nodded toward the pictures. "Let's leave it for tomorrow."

"I guess I fell asleep," I admitted sheepishly and stood up. I glanced at him and froze. He didn't have his shirt on – and that meant he was also tired, because he apparently forgot to put it on. The sight of his scars woke me up more effectively than cold water.

Starsky went to the closet where he kept some blankets and spare sheets. He hesitated and looked at me again. "Your back will hurt," he said slowly.

I couldn't help it, glancing toward his bed. "Not necessarily."

He smiled and nodded.

"Your couch is a torture device," I said after I laid down on the smooth, hard surface of his bed.

"I know." I saw him smiling in the mirror above our heads. "I promise not to use it against you ever again."

I grinned at him, but I believed it.


	6. Improbable

**Improbable by Nicky Gabriel**

Stakeouts were not my favorite. Sitting in the car in the middle of the night and staring at some dark building wasn't the most entertaining job, but a boring necessity. I yawned and swiped a hand down my face. For the last three hours I had been staring at a door. The streetlamp had been flickering and I wondered how long the bulb would last.

I glanced at Starsky, dozing in the passenger's seat. He fell asleep few hours ago after winning the coin toss. We both knew that the suspect probably wouldn't turn up before midnight.

On the other hand, probability theory didn't apply to us. What were the chances after what happened two years ago that we would be still sitting here together? Theoretically nonexistent. Starsky was in the hospital with three bullets in his chest and nobody believed he would survive. Even I didn't dare to believe in such miracle. But the miracle happened.

I glanced at the building again, but it was still quiet. I put a hand over Starsky's chest and listened with my fingertips to his heartbeat. This heart quit for a few minutes two years ago and that's when we lost our immortality. We were no longer superheroes.

I smiled to this memory. Since when we stopped being careless and opted for rational caution, our efficiency didn't drop. On the contrary, our arrest record was even higher than before. Being aware of own mortality rearranged some of the priorities. What so long ago seemed impossible, we proved every day.

In that moment, I got another proof that probability theory indeed didn't apply to us. Our suspect just came out of the shadows and headed toward the door.

"Time to wake up, sleeping beauty," I murmured and I tickled Starsky lightly to wake him up.


	7. The Right Time

Episode related: Starsky vs. Hutch.

**The Right Time by Nicky Gabriel**

We were sitting across from each other at our desks, but the silence wasn't unsettling anymore. I knew I screwed up, but I had to believe there was still hope for us. Without Starsky, there was no future and the last few hours proved that right.

It was my fault that we stopped talking, stopped spending time after work together, and stopped looking at each other. I avoided him and pushed him away, but Starsky never gave up.

I wanted to go back to what we had, to the times when I didn't have to miss him because of my own coldness and bitterness. We worked together, we were still partners, but our friendship was different. Only the job stayed the same. And the job joined us again in the end. This bond was stronger even than my efforts to break us.

Tonight in the club, when we looked at each other, suddenly the crowd and the music and the whole last year wasn't there; there was just Starsky and me. And I knew I was ready to ask for his forgiveness and he was ready to forgive me, though it wasn't the right time or place to talk. We had a mission and that was all what counted. We had a job and we were going to be as professional about it as we should have been from the very beginning.

Suddenly there was hope for me again. One look at his eyes – one real look – and all was easy again. There was another tomorrow for us.

"My place or yours?" I heard him ask now.

I took a deep breath, not breaking the contact. "Yours." I didn't hesitate. It had to be a safe place, a place where he could throw me out anytime; where I could be surrounded by his presence, his scent, his love. Forgiveness.

Starsky smiled. He knew me and knew what I was thinking. I waited for him as he headed to Dobey's office with our reports. We drove to work in separate cars today, but I wanted us to leave together. When he was walking through the door, he curled his hand against my side for a brief moment and I didn't step back. No, I wanted more; so much more again.


	8. Supernatural

**Supernatural by Nicky Gabriel**

One of the many things Starsky learned after he died was patience. When he was still alive, patience wasn't among his character traits, but when you were dead some priorities shifted places on your list. Starsky believed in life after death, but in his wildest dreams he hadn't imagined that it would be like that. When he was alive, there were just two options available – hell or heaven. The third one surprised him exceedingly.

It took him some time to learn the rules of this new state of – ah, spirit? But finally he came to the conclusion that he still had a task to do on Earth before he would cross the line to one of the other two possible futures. It couldn't be the unfinished business because whatever he tried, he usually ended up with completely strange family. Whenever he tried to interfere in the life of his own family, or in his ex-partner's life, some powerful force took him back to the family he was apparently assigned to. Finally he gave up and decided that if that 'power' wanted him to stay with this rich and affluent people, who was he to object?

His detective mind was sharp even on the other side of life, so after some time he figured out that the father of this family planned the future for all his children. Starsky felt that it wasn't the future the unknown 'force' planned for them, though; especially for the light haired boy with a heart bigger than the whole world. The power that be wanted him to work in the law enforcement, but not as a lawyer.

That's when Starsky understood why he was chosen for that mission. Starsky used to be a cop when he was still alive, so from now on he tried to motivate the young man to leave college and enroll in the police academy.

It wasn't particularly difficult, because Kenneth Hutchinson knew perfectly well what he wanted to do with his own life and how to execute it.

Yes, he was supposed to accomplish great things in his life. One of these was saving Michael Starsky's son's life. And more even – saving David Starsky's soul.


	9. Unworthy

**Unworthy by Nicky Gabriel**

_Today's the time for courage, babe,  
Tomorrow can be for forgiving_  
**Nick Cave - Sweetheart Come**

Starsky was sitting on his bed, trying to button his shirt, when I finally arrived in the hospital. His moves were still clumsy - especially his left hand - but for me this sight was a balm for my soul. Not so long ago I didn't even have any hope for tomorrow to even exist, and the fact that my partner could button his shirt alone was a miracle now.

Under the bed there were his sneakers - his trademark blue Adidas. When I saw them, I felt a lump in my throat. How many times had I teased him because of the way he dressed? How many times had I joked and put him down with mocking remarks? I wasn't doing it to hurt him, but usually it ended up like that; I could see it in his eyes, in his hunched shoulders, clenched fists.

But he knew me. He was my friend, the best friend a guy can ever ask for. He saw deeper than the words and actions to the real meaning, where even I could not see anything but darkness. He knew the reasons. He understood why I did what I did, even when I didn't.

"Ready to leave this joint?" I asked, coming in and leaning against the bed next to him.

Starsky smiled with relief. "What took you so long?"

I shrugged. "I had to test the Tomato. Merle finished the work last week, but I didn't have time to check it out until today."

Starsky smiled wider.

"Can we go?" I asked again. "I have your papers."

Starsky frowned and nodded toward the sneakers. "I'm almost ready."

He still couldn't bend, so he wouldn't be able to lace them or even put them on. I knelt in front of him and reached for the shoes. Swiftly I put them on and began lacing them. That's when I felt his fingers in my hair.

"Hutch, we can do it," I heard his whisper.

I couldn't look up. _We._ After all I had done, after all the pain I caused, I didn't feel worthy even to lace these shoes, but he still believed in us. He still trusted me. I swore silently that I would never take him for granted again.

"There's one condition," I heard him talk again.

I looked up and let him see the tears I felt stinging.

"Don't ever change," he finished.

Three words and I could breathe again. He thumbed the tears of my cheeks and I stood up nodding. I helped him down from the bed and said, "You have the worst aftershave."

"Yeah, Hospital No.5 isn't my fragrance either." He went to the wheelchair and sat down with a flourish, smiling. "We'll have to do something about it."

_We._

I smiled as well. Yes, we could do it.


End file.
